11:11

I stare at the ceiling,
And I listen to Nujabes.
I keep the lights off;
I can see clearly, that way.
I want the true warmth I’m looking for,
To touch it, again.

Almost half a decade,
And this nightly routine continues.
It’s approaching the 11:11 strike, soon.
My goal is the same, the usual:
To make a wish more selfless than the last.
For the certain someone that triggers these wishes to become more frequent.
The someone who planted an even better half in me.
Someone who deserves a wish towards true happiness,
And less towards mine.

Fuck the closure I long for,
Let that someone rise and prosper.
The way they want.

It’s 11:11 now,
Time to make that wish,
It’ll be better than the last.

The deed is now done,
It’s now 11:12.
I’m now rolling over and attempting to sleep.

Regardless of slumber, I can still dream the best of dreams:
Awake, or asleep.
That’s the purpose of the lights going out, tonight.
Only then can I see the clearest,
And dream the biggest of dreams.